


Ravenclaw Coffeehouse

by DrarryLover09



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hermione owns Ravenclaw Coffeehouse, Muggle AU, Ron isn't related to Fred and George, Slytherin Joke Shop, Slytherin Twins cuz they're ambitious, Smut, cliché beginning to relationship, first fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9270068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrarryLover09/pseuds/DrarryLover09
Summary: Hermione buys a store across from the joke shop and makes it into a coffee shop. Fred admires her from the window till George tells him to go over and see her. It takes a while for relationship to build





	1. Butterscotch smell

The new shop across the street had been doing fairly well considering it was such a small place. Fred looked out the window at the soft blue and bronze colors that were painted on the sign for Ravenclaw Coffeehouse. He had thought about going over there several times but the thought always brought butterflies to his stomach. The girl had purchased the building a few months back but it had been opened only recently.  
Part of the reason Fred had never ventured over there was the guy Fred assumed was her boyfriend. Lanky fellow with red hair similar to his own, he thought that the guy didn’t really seem like the girls type. She seemed to be the bookish type, with toned arms probably from carrying loads of books and fuzzy brown hair that normally wouldn’t be attractive, but on her it somehow seemed perfect. She deserved someone who was on the same intellectual level as her and Fred doubted her current man had that capability.  
His thoughts were interrupted by his twin brother George. “…there mate.”  
“What?”  
“You must’ve been in some pretty deep thought there brother,” George laughed. “I said go on over there mate. It’s pretty quiet here and I won’t need you for a while.”  
“You sure about that?” Fred did want to go over there he just didn’t want to feel like he was abandoning his brother for a girl whose name he didn’t even know.  
“Yep I’ll be perfectly fine without you. Now go get her tiger.” George playfully shoved his brother’s shoulder as he left. Fred shouldered his coat on and ventured out into the autumn wind.  
* * *  
With each step that led him closer to the coffeehouse, and closer to the girl, the butterflies in his stomach fluttered more and more. When Fred opened the door, the tinkling of bells announced his arrival and the smell of melted butterscotch greeted him. He looked around the shop but no one was there, not even a person behind the counter. Approaching the register, he looked at the menu. ‘I have to have a reason to be here’ he thought, ‘so I might as well order some coffee.’ Looking at the menu he noticed something called butterbeer. ‘That must be the butterscotch smell. Maybe I’ll try it.’  
“Can I help you with anything?” The girl’s voice startled him; he thought he would have heard her come in. “We’re actually closed right now,”  
“Oh, umm, I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I’ll come back later,” he mentally kicked himself. Of course it was closed that’s why no one was here ‘Great first impression, idiot.’  
As he turned to leave, he heard her speak again, “Actually if you wouldn’t mind staying I could use some help unloading stuff.” He looked back at her, only to notice that her face was bright red. She rushed to explain herself, “I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to, it’s just my boyfriend Ron left me a couple days ago and he just finished moving his stuff out and…” she stuttered to a stop, not being able to hold tears back any longer. Fred rushed forward to attempt to comfort her.  
“Shhhhh, it’s okay, you didn’t have to explain yourself or anything, I was going to help. I’m sorry he left you, must have been a real jackass to do that to a girl like you.”  
“Yeah,” she started to laugh just a little, “You’re right he is a jackass.” Wiping at her eyes she apologized for her outburst of crying. “Do you want to come in the back and have a coffee or tea or something?” Fred nodded. “Oh and I’m Hermione.”  
“Fred.” He smiled, ‘Hermione. I like the name.’


	2. A bit of spice

"What's the smell? If you don't mind me asking."  
"Oh it's supposed to be a new thing I serve. It's called butterbeer. It's supposed to be sort of like hot chocolate but I can't manage to get the flavor quite right." Hermione turned to the counter. "So, coffee or tea?"  
"Actually, I'd like to try the butterbeer."  
She raised her eyebrow. "Are you sure? I told you it's missing something and I can't get it quite right..."  
"Maybe I can figure it out? It's not like I'm an invalid." He triumphantly smirked when she started to laugh. "What do you say Hermione?"   
She laughed, "You can try. It was Ron's grandmother's recipe. Even HE couldn't figure it out."  
The gears in Fred's mind began to turn out ideas, "If I manage to do it, and I will, you have to let me take you out to dinner." She gave him 'the look' that somehow only women can manage. In return, Fred raised his eyebrows and smirked. She gave in.  
"Fine. Give it a try, it's on the stove," He broke out in a grin. Turning to the stove he saw a small pot filled with caramel colored liquid. He grabbed the spoon from the side board and dipped it in. It smelled delicious but Hermione was right, it was missing something. Not so much that it was missing something big. It was missing something subtle, something like a spice.   
When Fred was little he would watch his mom cook. She had a way with food that had been passed to him. The ability to tell what spice a dish needed, or make a practically gourmet meal from seemingly nothing. This was somehow more difficult for him. Cinnamon or nutmeg. It had to be one of those two. Nothing else would fit. Searching the labels on the jars in the spice rack above the stove, he found the cinnamon and pulled it out. Looking at it, he saw that it was almost out. Just enough to right the recipe. He opened it and dumped the rest of the contents into the pot.   
The smell altered slightly after stirring it in. Fred turned around, only to run into Hermione. She stumbled back a bit and he reached out to steady her. They looked at each other for a second before she blushed and stepped away.   
"Sorry Fred I didn't mean to I was just watching you." She stuttered, "I mean I was watching what you were doing, not you. It smells different somehow. What'd you do?"  
"Uhh. Oh it's cinnamon. Taste it." He stepped away to give her room. She looked at it suspiciously.   
"You didn't poison it did you?" She asked teasingly.   
"Not unless you tried poisoning Ron with cinnamon." Hermione laughed. Reaching to take the spoon away from him, she smiled. Fred thought it was the first genuine smile he'd seen from her. It lit up her face, brightened her eyes so that he could see flecks of gold in her brown eyes. She dipped the spoon in and tasted it.   
"Looks like you won the bet. When are we going to dinner?"  
Fred smirked, "You'll see. It's a surprise." Hermione pouted before opening the cupboard and bringing out a cup for him.   
"Butterbeer still?" she asked before she poured him a cup.


	3. Friday Morning

(Hermione’s Perspective)  
Hermione had been giddy all week, waiting for the day when Fred would come through the door to take her out to dinner. She tried to look pretty without wearing makeup and a dress. As of late she had been wearing pleated skirts and blouses. Despite Fred’s promise that it would be soon, she began to second guess her choice to accept his offer. She fell asleep on Thursday night with an uneasy feeling in her stomach, and tossed and turned most of the night before falling asleep.   
* * *  
(Fred’s Perspective)  
He woke in a cold sweat, hair plastered to his forehead. Slipping a tee shirt on, he left his room, closing the door softly and walking down the stairs. He ran is hand through his hair, making it stick up attractively. He went into the kitchen, and just the change in atmosphere calmed him. Rummaging through the cupboards, he pulled out the ingredients for scones. The recipe had been ingrained in his mind from years of making them in the middle of the night. The rhythmic stirring, pounding the dough into the proper shape, it all calmed him, but most of all, it was the fact that he didn’t have to think about what he was doing. It was almost like a reflex at this point.  
Yet he didn’t know what would be worthy of Hermione. It wasn’t like she was overly pompous and expected steak or something expensive. But she did deserve something nice. If he had thought of something earlier, he would have taken her out the same day she agreed to it. He knew he shouldn’t worry so much but she deserved the best, and he didn’t want to disappoint. Waiting for the scones to finish cooking, he filled the kettle on the stove and put it on to boil.  
Without anything else to keep him busy, his thoughts overwhelmed him. He sat at the wooden table in the center of the room, and laid his head on his arms. His head was down for only a second before he felt Georges hand on his shoulder.  
“What’s the problem little brother?”  
Fred scowled into his arms for a second before glaring up at his brother. “You’re younger, remember?”  
“Yes I do happen to recall that you are older physically. Mentally however, I am years older.” This earned a small laugh from Fred. “Now seriously, what’s wrong?” Giving in finally, he explained to George about Hermione, how Ron had left her a few days previously. He told him about the ‘butterbeer incident’ and how he was up baking in the middle of the night because he didn’t know where to take Hermione for dinner. It all had just come tumbling out and by the end Fred felt better, at least a little.   
An easy silence fell between them as Fred poured tea and retrieved scones for the both of them. Meanwhile, George was thinking about everything Fred had just laid out. Contemplating whether or not to suggest the brilliant idea that had come to him, he asked Fred how much he liked Hermione and if he was considering a long term relationship with her.   
“I really do like her a lot,” Fred started, “and I do want her to have the best but I’m not sure I can be the one to give it to her…”  
“Stop that nonsense Freddie. Have you looked out that window lately? I mean did you go and really look out there. Everyday Hermione has been dressing nicer just to try and impress you. Have you seen that?”  
“No…”  
“Well she likes you. And I know for a fact that you like her too, otherwise you wouldn’t be up this early making scones. Which, by the way, are delicious.” Fred scowled at George for getting off topic, but inwardly he was smiling at the compliment. “Now, now brother. I have the answer to all of your problems. You want to impress her right?” Fred nodded. “Just make something. It doesn’t have to be extravagant. Just the fact that you made it will be gesture enough.”  
George continued to eat his scone, as if he had not just revealed the key piece of like to Fred. Fred meanwhile, had jumped up and began rummaging through to check what they needed. Making a list of thing to get in his mind, he ran upstairs to get dressed, or at least make himself presentable.   
“George?”  
“What Fred?”  
“Are you gonna need me at the shop today?” He ran back down the stairs, grabbing his keys from the bowl by the front door on his way back to the kitchen.   
“No I think I can manage. If not I can always get Angelina to come in.”  
“Don’t do anything bad while I’m gone!” Fred grabbed his jacket off the hook and slung it over his arm.   
“Oh shut it Fred. You’re the one always getting in trouble.  
“True, but you’re the one who gets caught.” George laughed at this, and Fred smiled as he went out the door that led from the kitchen into the garage. Opening the door to his car, he threw his jacket onto the passenger seat then got in. He reversed the car down the driveway and started toward the store, set on making a meal fit for the queen. ‘Hermione will be my queen, if I have my way,’ he thought.   
* * *  
(Hermione’s Perspective)  
A faint, faraway sound woke Hermione from her sleep. Groaning, she rolled over to look at her alarm clock. “It can’t possibly be just after midnight,” she mumbled to herself. And judging by the sunlight filtering through the window, it definitely was not. She searched through the blankets on her bed, attempting to find her phone. Unable to, she reluctantly got out of bed and, wrapping her robe around her, walked down the hall and into the kitchen. The clock on the stove read 9:30. She was wide awake now and thought to herself, ‘the shop is supposed to open at nine thirty, and I haven’t done a single thing to get stuff ready.’ She hurried back down the hall to her room and threw on a pair of jeans and a random tee shirt from her closet. Slipping on the nearest pair of shoes, she ran down the stairs and flipped the sign to open and unlocked the door.   
She had barely started up the coffee before she heard the bell on the door tinkle. Turning around, she saw someone who, at first glance, could have been mistaken for Fred but there was something in the way he held himself that was different.  
“We’re twins.”  
“What?” He had startled her, practically reading her mind.   
“Me and Fred, we’re twins. The name’s George by the way.”  
“Oh. I’m Hermione.”  
“I know. Fred told me about you. He also told me about the butterbeer he helped you with.”  
“Oh, yeah that.” A slight blush rose to her cheeks at the thought of that day.  
“Do you have any made? I would like to try some if you don’t mind.”  
“Yeah, but it’ll be a couple minutes.” Recovering from her initial shock, she set about preparing the butterbeer according to instructions she had pinned on the board above the small stove. Behind her, she heard George pull a chair out and sit down.   
“My brother left the house in such a hurry I wasn’t sure if he was going to come by to tell you that he’s taking you out tonight.”  
“Tonight?” There was both a hint of excitement and nervousness in just that one word.   
“Yeah tonight. I would say to not change what your wearing, but I’m not sure if it would be taken as bossy or not.”  
“Oh it’s not.” She looked down at her outfit and inwardly cringed. “Do you think Fred would like this?” she asked, specifically referring to the shirt which was grey and in bold black letters it said, ‘I am silently correcting your grammar’. One of her friends had bought it for her, but she had never actually worn it, even though it was occasionally true.  
George laughed. “Oh I’m pretty sure he’ll like it. He probably won’t be by till late tonight. Oh and could I have a second one of those?” She raised her eyebrow questioningly. “Co-worker.” But judging by the pink tint coloring his face she could tell it was somewhat deeper than that.  
“More like girlfriend,” she teased.  
“Actually somewhere in between.” She laughed slightly at that as she set two travel cups full of butterbeer on the counter. “How much do I owe you?”  
“Technically? Three dollars. But you can have them for free.”  
“You sure?”  
“Absolutely.”  
George was almost at the door before he turned around “How do you tell the difference between us anyways? Even our mum has a hard time?”  
She tapped the side of her head. “It’s all in my mind.”  
He laughed as he pushed the door open and ventured out into the cold.


	4. Chapter 4

(Fred’s Perspective)  
Fred had been busy in the kitchen all day since he had gotten home from the store. He was trying as hard as he could not to mess anything up. It all had to be perfect. The kitchen was warm with the scent of cooking chicken and yams.   
Everything he had cooking wasn’t even close to halfway done, or wasn’t even in the oven yet, so he figured there was enough of a lull to call George. Picking up his cell phone, he clicked on George’s number and it started to ring. It took longer than usual for him to pick up the phone.   
“Hello brother.” George sounded slightly out of breath.  
“What were you lip locked with Angelina?”  
“Actually yes I was.”  
“What??”  
“In case you didn’t know you haven’t been quite the observant one for a while since you started pinning after Hermione.”   
“I am not pinning after her.”  
“Not anymore. Now what did you call me for? I would like to get back to Angelina as soon as I can.”  
Fred was stunned into silence for a bit before answering. “Oh I was wondering if you would be willing to bunk at someone’s house to night because I was hoping to have the night alone with Mione. But I’m assuming that you’re going to end up at Angelina’s house by the end of the night if I’m right about where it’s heading.”  
“Oooooh you’re at the nickname stage now are you?”  
“Shove off George.” Fred heard his brother talking to someone in the background.  
“Fine. But I am going to be at Angelina’s house tonight.”  
“Cool.” One of the timers in the kitchen went off. “I gotta go now brother. Don’t get in trouble.” Fred hung up before he could hear George’s response.  
* * * *  
(Hermione’s Perspective)  
Hermione had been slightly distracted all day long. She finally had a date with Fred, because even though she technically had one before, it was now official. Her thoughts had been consumed by Fred all day long, interrupted by the occasional customer. Toward the end of her day, she was relieved to see that Ginny had finally come by. Hermione had texted her earlier in the day, but it had taken a while for Ginny to come in.   
“So,” she said as she let herself behind the counter, “I need all the dirty details now that I’m here.” Ginny was never one for formalities, always getting straight to the point. “New guy?”  
“Technically, old one but yes new guy.” Ginny’s eyes widened in realization.  
“You mean that hot guy who runs the store across the street?”  
“Yes that hot guy. He’s mine now though, or at least I think he is.” For the duration of the afternoon, Hermione told her best friend the whole story about Fred, ending with how he was taking her to dinner tonight.  
The café had cleared out, leaving just the two of them sitting at one of the tables near the counter. “Tonight? We have to get you dressed up girl! I mean I love that you’re finally wearing the tee shirt I gave you, but I think a dress would go over better.”  
Before Ginny got too into what to get her to wear, Hermione stopped her. “Actually, you can get me dressed up next time, if there is one. Fred’s brother came by today and he said that Fred would like this outfit.”  
Ginny looked a little skeptical at that but she didn’t push it. “So where is he taking you?”  
“I don’t know. He said it was a surprise. Knowing him though, it’ll be good.”  
“Because of his freaky little magic trick with the butterbeer? I’d say that was just a coincidence.”  
“Look at miss skeptical over here, the only one I know who believes in ghosts.”  
“Because they’re real.”  
“Facts say that it’s just a trick of the light.”  
“Says the one who never believes in anything that’s not backed up with facts, Miss Smarty Pants.”  
At that moment Fred walked through the door, the bell announcing his arrival. “Am I interrupting something?”  
“No, you’re not.” Ginny stared him down while Hermione once again self-consciously looked down at her outfit.  
“Have you silently corrected my grammar yet?” Fred asked, almost laughing as he said it.  
“Oh yeah she totally has.”  
Fred walked over and pulled up a chair from another table nearby. “You are?”  
“Ginny. I’m also Hermione’s best friend.”  
“Good to know. Must I have your approval to sweep her away for the night?”  
Ginny was shocked. Not a lot of guys took Hermione out on dates, but normally they didn’t care what she was doing currently, as long as she dropped it once they showed up. “You don’t NEED it, no. But you do have it.”  
“I’m glad.”  
“So, where are we going? Or is it still a surprise?”  
“We, are heading over to my house. I made dinner, but what it is, is still a surprise. I made enough that if Ginny wants to come too she can.”  
“Oh I don’t want to intrude, and besides I have stuff to do at home.” She stood up, grabbing her purse from the floor. “I’ll see you tomorrow Hermione.” She waved before she walked out the door.   
“Are you ready?”  
“Yeah, just let me get my jacket from upstairs.” As she climbed the steps leading to the second floor, Fred looked around at the interior of the shop. When he was in here the first time he spent the majority of it watching Hermione, not paying any attention to his surroundings. The walls were dark blue, with a bronze trim. ‘Those must be her favorite colors,’ he thought. Stylishly set at intervals around the walls were interesting black and white photos, in frames with golden edges. The one nearest him was a picture of a window, the outside dark with rain clouds, and the window itself had rain drops streaming down it. The next one was a simple white mug, steaming from the tea inside. They were all simple, but they were all beautiful in their own way.   
“Who took these pictures?” Fred had heard Hermione coming up behind him, presumably to startle him.   
“I did.” He was expecting that they were from a professional and had been bought simply for decoration. The fact that Hermione had done these was intriguing, and he wondered just what else she could do, because she obviously had several hidden talents.   
“They’re amazing. Where did you learn to do this?”  
He had turned around to face her instead of the wall. “My parents bought me a camera when I was little. At one point I ended up playing with the settings and I made it so it would only take black and white pictures.” She laughed a little. “My parents couldn’t figure out how to turn it back but I really liked how they looked so I didn’t really care if I knew how to change it back or not. When I got older I got a professional camera, it was my graduation present. I chose it over a car because it meant so much more to me.” For a little while it seemed as though she was no longer talking to him, but to herself. Reminiscing about when she was little. He looked at her and smiled, because in that moment, she looked truly beautiful. She may not be the conventional ‘beautiful’, but to be honest that wasn’t really beauty at all, where as she was.   
She startled, almost as if she had forgotten he was there. “Sorry I didn’t mean to ramble. Let’s go to your house, shall we?”   
* * * *  
They sat in silence for the first couple minutes of the car ride, Hermione looking out the window watching the houses pass in a blur. The silence made Fred uneasy, especially since this was supposed to be their first date.  
“You didn’t have to apologize you know.”  
She startled at the break in silence. “What?”  
“Back at your shop, when you were talking about your pictures you apologized for rambling. You didn’t have to apologize. I like hearing things you’re passionate about.” Hermione blushed at that, but kept quiet. Fred glanced sideways at her and smiled. “I like your shirt too. Where’d you get it?”  
“Ginny got it for me.”  
“Ahhhhh. She seems to be a feisty one, matches her hair.” Hermione laughed at that. “Do you have a thing for red heads?”  
“Maybe. But your hair is different than Ron’s and Ginny’s, even George’s.” He looked over at her in surprise. “He came by to tell me you were picking me up tonight. Anyways, yours has more dark red in it. Almost like the dying flames.” She blushed and stopped talking as he pulled the car into the driveway.   
“Welcome to my humble home.” He waved in the general direction of the house.  
As Hermione got out of the car, she looked up at it. Two stories high, painted white with a sky blue trim. Surrounding the front yard was a white picket fence, with morning glories climbing up. She couldn’t contain her laugh. The fact that the very masculine Fred and George lived in a house with a white picket fence, was quite amusing.   
“What? Did the fence set you off? I told George it would scare away the girls.” She burst out laughing, slightly doubling over as she did.   
“Oh it wasn’t the fence. Actually it was the trim that did it.”  
“Darn, I thought it was nice. That was my idea you know.”  
“I like it. Care to show me inside?”  
“Of course, my lady.” With a bow, Fred opened the gate for her, allowing her to go ahead of him. He followed, unlocking the door, which was also sky blue. “Okay so now for the surprise. Close your eyes and I’ll lead you okay? No peaking.” Hermione closed her eyes as Fred took her hand and carefully pulled her along behind him. He led her down the hallway and through the opening to the kitchen. “Now, open.”  
When she opened her eyes, she was met with candlelight. White candles were placed along the counter, and a cluster of three sat in the middle of the table between the two seats. To one side of the candles was a chicken, cooked and glazed with an orange sauce. To the other side, sat a pan of candied yams, the marshmallows on top perfectly tanned. Her jaw dropped. She knew that he was a good cook, and that he might want to impress her, but this was way beyond what she imagined.  
“Do you like it?” She turned around, hearing the nervousness in his voice. He stood awkwardly, almost shying away.  
“I love it.” She had said it softly, almost soft enough that she wasn’t sure he heard.  
Suddenly, he stepped forward wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him. Fred cupped her chin and lifted her face up, before softly placing his lips on hers. Hermione melted into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Fred’s neck to pull him closer.   
Their kiss ended too soon for either of them, but there was dinner on the table still waiting to be eaten. Fred stepped forward to pull Hermione’s chair out for her, and pushed it back in once she sat down.   
“Quite the gentleman, aren’t you?” she teased.  
“Why of course I am,” his confidence seemed to have returned, along with his humor. He went to the counter and retrieved a knife to cut the chicken. While he was busy with the chicken, Hermione studied him. The candlelight cast a soft glow on his face, one that she was quickly getting attached to. She wasn’t normally one to quickly catch feelings for guys, but she hadn’t had that many worthy prospects in the first place so she didn’t exactly have a classification for ‘normal’.  
Her thoughts of Fred were interrupted by a plate being set down in front of her. “I’ll have you serve yourself if that’s okay?” Fred’s voice seemed to be a bit hesitant, “I would, it’s only that I don’t know how much you normally eat.”   
“Oh, yes that’s fine.” She looked down accusingly at her plate, as if it was its fault that she had been staring at Fred the entire time she was thinking. She was fairly sure that he had seen her staring.   
After a moment, she reached to serve herself. “Do you have anything to drink?” she asked distractedly.   
“I asked earlier but I think you were a bit occupied with staring at me.” As he turned away, she saw a smirk starting to form on his face. “Anyways, I have coffee, tea, champagne and… I think I have sparkling cider back here somewhere. What are you up for?”  
Hermione glanced at her watch “I’ll have sparkling cider. Tea at this hour will just keep me awake forever,” she said with a laugh.  
Fred nodded. “I used to have that problem but I think I’ve built up a tolerance to it ever since Fred and I opened up the shop. Here you go m’lady,” he said, giving Hermione a glass of cider.   
At first, dinner had been quiet, only the sound of utensils on plates could be heard. As much at Hermione was enjoying the food, she still wanted to get to know Fred better. “So…” Hermione looked up, seeing that Fred had already been looking at her before she had said anything, the realization making her blush. “Do you have any hobbies? I mean the shop must take up a lot of your time, but I run the coffee house and I still take pictures.” She trailed off, not wanting to ramble like she did earlier.  
“Well I cook obviously, although I would call that more of a passion of mine than a hobby. Same with your photography, which is really good by the way, I don’t know if I said that earlier.” Fred though about it for a minute. Did he even have any hobbies? For the most part he just worked at the shop, creating new products, and cooking at home. “Other than that I don’t know that I actually do anything interesting,” Hermione gave him a hard look at that. “What? Most of my life is at the shop or here.”  
“Maybe I should bring you with me on a photography session sometime, get you out into the world more.” This made Fred laugh, and the sudden increase in noise lifted the tension in the room. The two were relatively done with dinner, and Fred desperately didn’t want her to leave now that the date was over for the most part. Its not that he wanted to take her to bed, more like he wanted to loose track of the time talking with her until well into the evening. Fred stood up, clearing the plates from the table, then turning the radio on in the hopes that he could rope her into dancing with him. He held his hand out to her, and she accepted it shyly. He led her into the living room which was clear in the center, and perfect for dancing. They danced to the up-beat music that filtered in from the other room. Hermione laughed at the way that Fred led her around the room, spinning her around at times. As the music transitioned into a slow song, her laughter died down. Fred held Hermione closer and slowed the pace at which they moved. When she looked into his eyes, she saw a fondness that she wasn’t used to. Every guy before this had never looked at her like this, some not even looking directly at her at all. Maybe Fred was different. Hermione hoped that he was.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to post as often as I can. Hope you liked it


End file.
